Here you will find the Poem Mountain Song of poet Bjornstjerne Bjornson
When you will the mountains roam And your pack are making, Put therein not much from home, Light shall be your taking! Drag no valley-fetters strong To those upland spaces, Toss them with a joyous song To the mountains' bases! Birds sing Hail! from many a bough, Gone the fools' vain talking, Purer breezes fan your brow, You the heights are walking. Fill your breast and sing with joy! Childhood's mem'ries starting, Nod with blushing cheeks and coy, Bush and heather parting. If you stop and listen long, You will hear upwelling Solitude's unmeasured song To your ear full swelling; And when now there purls a brook, Now stones roll and tumble, Hear the duty you forsook In a world-wide rumble. Fear, but pray, you anxious soul, While your mem'ries meet you! Thus go on; the perfect whole On the top shall greet you. Christ, Elijah, Moses, there Wait your high endeavor. Seeing them you'll know no care, Bless your path forever.